


Magic in Your Veins

by Shards_of_Reality



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental kidnapping, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes is done with these idiots, Canonical Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, and so am i, author still doesn't know what she is doing, look just read the fic okay it's pretty good i think, well not totally accidental its complicated ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-04-08 10:29:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19105288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shards_of_Reality/pseuds/Shards_of_Reality
Summary: Tony is an Omega—supposedly powerless. But the universe doesn’t seem to care, or else just made the biggest mistake ever, because Tony has powers anyway. It’s okay, though. He keeps his head down. No one will ever know.Steve is a rogue tracker—he finds Alphas and the occasional Betas who go against the law and don’t register their powers with the Calethyian Welthari Registration. He’s scarily good at his job, despite the Combat magic that’s run through his family for centuries refusing to run through him. So he hunts down those who have what he’s been begging for since day one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeapOf_Faith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapOf_Faith/gifts).



> Hi all! This here is a birthday fic I wrote for my friend LeapOf_Faith, and she has graciously allowed me to share her present with the Internet at large. I'm not really sure how to tag this. If anyone sees anything glaring I need to tag, let me know. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Oh, and technically this story is finished, but I have learned that I can't write the get-together part of a slow burn fic to save my life, so I'll try to do that and add it here.)

** Assignment: Steven Grant Rogers ** ****  
** **

**_Name: Unknown_ **

**_Breed: Unknown_ **

**_Magick: Suspected Kinetic_ **

**_Description: Small male with short, dark hair and brown eyes. Usually seen in nondescript clothing_ **

**_Whereabouts: Last seen in the southern end of the Markets_ **

 

Steve sighed. No name, no breed, no address. All he had to go on was a shaky description, a possible magick type, and a vague location.

****

He always got the difficult cases. 

****

It was only because he was  _ good,  _ and Steve prided himself on that reputation. He liked to think he was good  _ despite _ his magick—though it wasn’t the prized Combat type the Rogers line was famous for, Sense magick was respectable. Useless, unless you happened to be with the Registration, but respectable. And Steve’s was  _ strong _ , which he supposed was only expected, coming from two almost completely pure bloodlines. 

****

_ Almost  _ being the key word. Though he’d never explicitly say it, they all knew Steve’s father’s family blamed his mother for “diluting the bloodline.” She was Omega, and therefore powerless. It wasn’t any fault of hers; it was just the way the universe worked. 

****

Well, to be fair, no one  _ knew  _ Omegas were automatically powerless, but in all the records there wasn’t one Omega with any kind of magick. Those who thought it was possible said the Omega would need to be born from two pureblood lines, probably of the same magick type, to even have a chance.

****

But. Anyway.

****

Steve didn’t have what he wanted, but Sense magic made his job one hell of a lot easier. Most people didn’t know it, but using magick anywhere left a sort of residual mark. A strong Sensor could pick it up a day or two later. If this man was a suspected rogue, someone had to have seen him use his magick, and Steve would be able to tell. 

****

So. First step, visiting the south Markets. 

****

A bay horse and a blue uniform drew attention in Calethyia—they were the marks of the Registration. The crowd at the Markets parted easily to let Steve pass, eyes flicking up and then down again, hands going to the gray armbands that marked roughly two-thirds of the population as Welthari—magicked. 

****

Steve ignored them.

****

The southern edge of the bustling Markets drew near and Steve pulled up near one of the shops. He didn’t bother to dismount, starting in on his usual speech straightaway.

****

“I’m looking for a man suspected to be unregistered Welthari. He was last seen in this area of the Markets, and is a suspected kinetic of some kind. Were there any citizens matching this description at this shop recently?”

****

The poor shopkeeper leaned up to peer at the words scrawled on Steve’s assignment papers. He frowned at hem for a moment, then shook his head. 

****

“Not ‘ere there weren’t, sir, but you might try askin’ Miss Rushman, down the way a bit. Sharp eye on that one; caught three thieves already sneaking around ‘ere.”

****

Steve thanked him and headed in the direction the man had pointed, searching the stalls for a woman who might be Rushman. A familiar face and a flash of red caught his eye and he sighed. “Miss Rushman” turned out to be Natasha Romanov, another tracker (though she preferred going undercover to, say, clomping through the streets on horseback).

****

“Miss Rushman,” Steve said neutrally as he pulled up, “I was told you may have information on a suspected rogue?”

****

Nat took the offered papers and scanned the brief information. “Not much detail, soldier, and unfortunately I don’t think I can help beyond telling you to check out some more well-off metalworkers, smiths and the like. An alloykinetic would be valuable there.”

****

“Right,” Steve took the papers back. “And if it isn’t that?”

****

“You’re not an idiot, Rogers, think of other kinetic types and find out where they do their best work.  _ Someone’s _ bound to be harboring a fugitive, even if it’s not your guy. Now move along, before somebody gets suspicious,” Nat added, pulling her Welthari band higher on her arm—she was zephyrkinetic, wind-magicked. The ability to bend the air around her made her ruthless in a fight. 

****

Steve nodded once to her and went off. The Registration kept an account of all the businesses in Calethyia, and trackers had free access to them. 

****

It took too long—a few hours to gather the information and ride back out to the wealthier end of the kingdom—so Steve had only time to check a few houses. The first few were useless, Steve barely even had to step inside to notice that. The only magick he could Sense matched the registration papers he was given exactly. 

****

Night was well on its way by the time Steve reached the gates of the last house he would check. Stark Manor loomed just up the hill, partially obscured by the thick iron of too-tall gates. Steve barely stopped outside them when they swung open of their own accord, with no guards or servants anywhere Steve could see. He wondered if some poor alloykinetic spent their days moving metal gates for this rich family, or if Stark had developed some kind of mechanism for it. Both seemed equally likely.

****

Steve’s Registry-assigned horse, Captain, plodded steadily up the hill toward the manor, and Steve felt a brief twinge of guilt. Captain had been loping along all day, and he had to be tiring, though he’d never show it. Captain would carry Steve forward until he collapsed if Steve asked him to. 

****

There was no more time for guilt when they arrived at the doors, and out of nowhere a boy appeared, with odd white-blond hair that suggested a foreigner. Steve squinted at him in suspicion—immigrants were more likely to be unregistered, not that Steve liked passing judgment too early. But the barely-visible gray on his arm marked him as Welthari, maybe with invisibility or speed magick, given the way he’d appeared. Steve slid from Captain’s back.

****

“Greetings,” Steve said. “I’m from the Registration. A fire was accidentally started in one of our rooms, and some registry lists were destroyed. I only need a moment with the master of your house.”

****

It was a lie, but it was necessary. If Steve alerted anyone hiding fugitives to the fact that he was  _ looking  _ for the fugitives, it’d be that much harder to find them. 

****

The boy nodded. In a thick accent that was decidedly  _ not  _ Calethyian, he added, “I can take your horse, sir.”

****

Before Steve could tell him it wasn’t really necessary, the boy grabbed Captain’s reins and jogged off with him—horses didn’t do well with being dragged by an invisible force or at inhuman speeds. Steve was still watching them go when a shaft of light painted a massive rectangle onto the path. A much older man had opened the doors and was standing aside, as if waiting for Steve to enter.

****

“You needn’t look so surprised, sir. We have a rather efficient security system here, even if you cannot see it,” the man said, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

****

Steve repeated his story about the fire to the man—a butler, most likely—and followed him into the house. A short ways down the hall, they stepped into what looked like a sitting room, with another man and woman lounging there. The Starks, Steve would guess. 

****

Steve recounted his story for the third time. “Mr. Stark, a fire has destroyed some registry lists, and I’m here to put them to rights. It won’t take long; I only need to see your papers and all the Welthari currently on the estate.”

****

Mr. Stark waved a hand. “Howard, please. Jarvis, fetch the registration papers, and tell someone to round up the magicks.”

****

Behind Steve, the butler—Jarvis—ducked his head and vanished. A moment later he returned with a sheaf of papers and the assurance that someone called Ana would be rousing the Welthari. Steve looked over the papers. They listed Howard Stark as an alloykinetic, but no other Starks were present on the list, just a dozen or so names of servants Steve didn’t recognize.

****

Gradually people trickled in, most looking slightly mussed and dressed for bed, and Steve winced inwardly at having pulled them from sleep. All of them had their gray bands shoved hastily onto their arms or twisting through their fingers. The bands weren’t  _ necessary _ —they were removable and therefore at risk to be lost, so all registered Welthari were also branded, a small  _ W  _ at the base of the neck. 

****

Steve had to stop himself from reaching back to touch his. 

****

At last an older woman arrived herding two young servants in front of her. Steve recognized the magicked boy from before, and a girl the same age, holding his hand. 

****

“This is them,” Howard said gruffly, gesturing to the gathered people. 

****

Steve nodded once and looked down at the list. “Stark, Howard—alloykinetic, of course.”

****

Howard made a rough sound in acknowledgement.

****

“Maximoff, Pietro—enmeve. Maximoff, Wanda—telepath,” Steve said, glancing around. The younger boy and girl quietly raised their hands, and Steve  _ reached.  _

****

All types of magick felt different. It wasn’t anything Steve could properly describe, not like a touch or taste or smell. It was like the odd sense of being watched, or followed; the instincts that made you turn just before a blow. Pietro’s swift-magick felt like being watched, like being very nearly missed by something, like empty impressions left behind. Wanda’s mind-magick felt like a pressing in, like claustrophobia, like scrutiny. 

****

The other names were called, and Steve’s Sense confirmed every word. 

****

He was just finishing when his Sense picked up a new magick—on high alert like that, it was easy to catch. Steve looked up, searching for a newcomer. It was only because he was paying such close attention that he heard it. 

****

“Young Sir, you mustn’t be here.”

****

“But Ana said-”

****

“Nevermind what I said! Go, shoo, before-”

****

“Anthony?”

****

Steve shot a questioning glance at Howard, and then finally turned around. Jarvis and Ana were still standing in the doorway, now talking to a boy—really, he couldn’t have been much younger than Steve, but everyone younger than Steve seemed  _ so young.  _

****

As casually as he could, Steve asked, “Anthony? There isn’t any Anthony on your registry.”

****

The boy certainly matched the rough description; small, dark hair, brown eyes. But of course there had to be a million dark haired, brown eyed boys in Calethyia. It didn’t mean anything.

****

“My name is  _ Tony,”  _ he said, crossing his arms over his chest, at the same time Howard said, “My son is an Omega, you needn’t bother about him.”

****

“Of course,” Steve said, turning away. He hadn’t missed the tone of Howard’s voice when he said  _ son  _ and  _ Omega,  _ and tried not to bristle. Not so long ago he’d been a skinny little thing himself, and even after he’d presented the whispers of  _ O  _ and  _ Meg  _ and  _ pretty little slut  _ had followed him everywhere. 

****

“I think I have what I need, I apologize for disturbing you so late. The Registration insisted on fixing the mistake as soon as possible,” Steve added, making for the door. 

****

He cast his Sense out one more time, feeling the magicks of the room twist and buzz around him. Surely he’d just imagined the new magick. Omegas, after all, didn’t have powers.

****

Everything matched, except— _ there.  _ The prickly cold feeling of being out in the open, the freezing burn that came a split second after a cut, the  _ swish _ of displaced air half an inch from his skin. Alloykinetic; metal-magick. 

****

It had to be Howard, but when Steve focused in on him, the feeling diminished rather than strengthened. Neither Jarvis nor Ana was the source of it, the feeling dwindling nearly to nothing when Steve checked them—not secretly Welthari, then. The only possible source seemed to be Tony, but that just wasn’t possible. 

****

Before anyone could start to become suspicious with the amount of staring Steve was doing, he said his last farewell and left, making a mental note to check back at the manor later. Pietro followed him, zipping away the instant he was outside, and the sound of hoofbeats heralded his return with Captain barely a second later. 

****

Steve thanked him and cast one last glance back at Stark Manor. His Sense had never been confusing that way before unless he was right on top of a fugitive. Maybe it was nothing—Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to focus the Sense in such a small space with so much magick. Maybe it had been thrown off.

****

At any rate,  _ something  _ had been going on at Stark Manor, and Steve planned on finding out.

****

~~~~

****

God _ damn _ that’d been a close call. Tony was so sure, when Ana had hurried into his room to let him know and nearly given him a heart attack (God, what if it’d been Howard? He had  _ books  _ everywhere), that the Registration had found him out. 

****

Okay, so it was a really, really dumb reason to get himself caught. But it’d been worth it, at the time, to see that little kid smile. And really, how was he supposed to know someone would report a guy making a little bucket-of-bolts metal figure walk in front of a kid?

****

But the guy (He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Tony, and Registration? Impressive) had only stared at him, had done nothing but agree with Howard. It wasn’t surprising—he stank of Alpha. And Tony had yet to meet a single Alpha who didn’t dismiss, size up, or sneer at him. 

****

He’d been so afraid, for a heartbeat, that he’d been caught. But the tracker had left like it was nothing.

****

Huh. The Omega thing was better cover than he could’ve imagined. 

****

Still. He’d have to lie low, lower than usual, for the next few days. Howard was already so close to selling Tony out—the world’s first magicked Omega, what a price he’d fetch! And the Registration was on the prowl, clearly. No room for slip-ups. 

****

In the flurry of servants leaving the room after the tracker, Ana ushered Tony upstairs before Howard could catch him. “Go to bed, Young Sir. I’m sorry about this.”

****

Tony just nodded. 

****

~~~~

****

Steve spent the large part of the next morning gathering a team of sorts. Leaving Captain behind to rest for a few hours, he headed first to the house he shared with Bucky, to recruit his oldest friend. It was a toss-up as to whether Bucky’d actually come—he had bad days, and they were only made worse by going out into a world full of a constant rejection of his magick.

****

Bucky was Nullthari, the pure opposite of Welthari. He nullified and canceled the magicks of other people just by willing it, and most hated his type. Steve had to admit there were times, at the beginning, when he’d hated it too. Bucky’s magick felt like falling, like the hot-cold spots that came right after a hard run, like the base fear of being in the dark. 

****

But he got used to it. Bucky was very, very good at his job in the Registration, partly because he had a small bit of Sense magick as a part of the Nullthari, and because he could cancel the magicks of fugitives when needed. Plus, he was Steve’s best friend, his brother, and he’d been that well before their powers developed.

****

Bucky actually did agree to come—he’d seemed fine when Steve left early in the morning to report in, but that was no guarantee. Steve left him getting ready and went down the street to Clint’s.

****

As per usual, Steve didn’t get closer than a hundred feet before an arrow whizzed by and impaled itself in the ground somewhere behind Steve. 

****

“One of these days you’ll hit someone,” he called up, barely pausing his walk. 

****

Clint grinned from the second story window. “Come on, Rogers, don’t you trust the magick?”

****

“Sure. I just don’t trust  _ you, _ ” Steve yelled up, but it was good-natured. Clint was ensihth, sight-magicked, and in all the time they’d been friends Steve had never seen him miss a shot. They’d tested him, once—Clint could pick out the color of a person’s eyes from a mile off. 

****

Clint swung out of his open window, dropping into some invisible cracks on the side of the house, then leaping off and landing gracefully on the ground. 

****

“So, I assume you need my help? ‘Else you’d never come ‘round my place this early in your godawful uniform,” Clint said.

****

“It’s your uniform too,” Steve pointed out, “and yes, I need you and Bucky, and Nat, if I can get her, to help me stakeout Stark Manor. Something’s going on there.”

****

Clint tipped his head, interested now. “What sort of something?”

****

“I’m on assignment, obviously, and I was checking the place out last night,” Steve lowered his voice, more for affect than anything else in the empty street, “when my Sense picked up someone who wasn’t there.”

****

“Yeah, okay,” Clint snorted, “I s’pose you expected the fugitive to be hanging around the kitchen offering you a sandwich?”

****

“ _ No, _ ” Steve snapped, though Clint’s disbelief was starting to make him doubt everything, “I mean it was  _ strong,  _ really strong, I could Sense it the same as I can Sense you, right here, but none of them  _ matched. _ ”

****

“So you’re saying….you could Sense someone standing right in front of you, but no one was there?”

****

“No one who matched.”

****

Clint looked dubious. He’d always been wary of magicks, had never really believed in the depth of Steve’s abilities. Not even after Steve had told him what his magic felt like (the level force of a hard stare, an adrenaline rush, being hunted). Despite being Welthari himself, Clint couldn’t seem to completely trust an unexplainable gift.

****

“I just have a hunch. Work with me and Buck for today, please?”

****

He knew even before he was finished that Clint would agree. Steve’s friend might not put much stock in magick, but  _ instinct _ , instinct he trusted intimately.

****

“Fine, fine, whatever. You owe me one,” Clint grumbled good-naturedly. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he whipped out one of his ever-present arrows and shot right over Steve’s shoulder.

****

Steve didn’t bother turning. Clint only shot as a greeting or a death sentence, so whoever was behind him didn’t require his attention. Sure enough, Bucky’s voice rang out half a second later.

****

“Better watch yourself, Hawkeye, or you’ll find out what it’s like to have normal eyes,” he called, lobbing a jet-black arrow at Clint. Steve marveled at the fact that he had one more good hand than Bucky and he’d  _ still  _ never managed to catch one of Clint’s arrows. 

****

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Clint snatched the arrow from the air and gave it a brief once-over before tucking it back into his quiver.

****

Steve felt it, then—the stomach-dropping feeling of a fall, like being off balance, and the feeling that came in the breath between anticipation and triumph, when everything froze. Wind-magick, with just a touch of something else, the deadly gracefulness Steve knew signalled Natasha. Every magick type felt different, of course, but with time Steve could pick out  _ people, _ as well, that extra hint that made the magick theirs. 

****

“Nat’s here,” he announced.

****

A faint growl answered him. “You ruined my grand entrance, Rogers!”

****

Graceful as a cat, Natasha prowled to the edge of Clint’s roof and simply stepped off, her fingers swirling strong air currents that slowed her fall so she was nearly floating.

****

“Still pretty grand,” Clint remarked. 

****

Steve frowned. “I thought you were on assignment.”

****

“Technically, I am, but it’s surveillance. Precautionary, and way below my pay grade, but it’s a job. The Markets can handle a day without me.”

****

“But how did you know where to find us? I haven’t even seen you since yesterday morning.”

****

Natasha sighed like it was obvious. “You didn’t come prancing around at the crack of dawn today, which meant you were either dead, finished, or following a lead. Registration confirmed you’re still kicking and haven’t brought your guy in, so. I knew you’d be here. You aren’t built to work alone.”

****

Bucky whistled. Steve filled them all in.

****

~~~~

****

They had eyes on him. Tony knew it.

****

He hadn’t planned on leaving the house if he could help it, but one good look out the window confirmed he wasn’t going anywhere for awhile. If he wasn’t mistaken (he rarely ever was) the Registration had placed an archer at the perfect place to shoot Tony down the second he opened the door. What? He’d been kidnapped before, he knew the hiding spots. The guy (or girl, whatever) was invisible, but the foliage was radically different. No one who didn’t routinely memorize the exact look of the estate would notice, but, hey. 

****

There were also two people who’d walked down the street five times in the last hour. Sure, they dressed differently, moved differently, walked separately and then together, but there were only so many people with reason to stroll down the street of the wealthiest district in Calethyia. Plus they kept discreetly watching Stark Manor.

****

These guys were good, professionals. Unfortunately for them, Tony had run up against too many people trying to take him out, and now he knew what to look for.

****

And really, the day after a supposedly random Registration visit? No way it was coincidence. 

****

Eventually Jarvis knocked and let himself in to call Tony down for lunch. He must’ve missed breakfast spying on his spies. 

****

“J, look at that,” he said, pointing toward the archer. 

****

“A lovely bit of greenery, Young Sir, but-”

****

“No, no, it’s been moved. Last time someone hid there, I moved the branches myself so I could see anyone hiding there from this window, and someone moved them back,” Tony explained. Jarvis looked mildly concerned at that.

****

“It could have been the groundskeeper,” Jarvis said carefully.

****

“And….there, see that couple? Woman’s got red hair. They aren’t always together, and they always change clothes, but there’s only so many women with hair like that in Calethyia. This is the sixth time they’ve walked by, and look, you can see them eyeing the house.”

****

“I’m not sure-”

****

“Call me paranoid, but I think that’s a little too suspicious to be coincidence, especially after last night.”

****

Jarvis eyed the window once more, looking concerned now. 

****

“Send Pietro down there, he’s too fast to be caught. Watch what happens,” Tony insisted. 

****

Reluctantly Jarvis conceded and went to send for Pietro. A few moments passed, and then a small colored blur flashed over the lawn, whipping past the trees and making the leaves flutter.  _ There.  _ When the archer’s cover vanished, Tony caught a glimpse of black, and bare arms, and then they quickly ducked away. If Tony hadn’t been watching so closely he would’ve missed the dark bolt that ripped through the air, several seconds too slow for Pietro.

****

The blur zipped around the lawn a few more times and then vanished again. Tony held his breath and waited to see what the spies-or-whatever would do for all of two seconds, then Pietro was next to him, offering a sleek black arrow with a grim smile.

****

“Thanks,” Tony said, taking it. Definitely not your run-of-the-mill weapon—in fact, it seemed almost... _ yes,  _ metal instead of wood, which not even soldiers used—too expensive. 

****

And, well, he wasn’t an alloykinetic Omega for nothing, right? With a few flicks of his fingers the arrow had been carefully taken apart, revealing a mess of powder Tony narrowly avoided dumping everywhere, and a slowly burning fuse leading to it. Tony extinguished it quickly and fitted the pieces of arrow back together, making a mental note to figure out what was inside. Explosives, probably. Fun.

****

It also meant they weren’t planning on taking him alive. An arrow to the leg or arm probably wouldn’t be fatal, but an explosion that tore the limb off sure as hell would be.

****

If the Registration would rather kill the first Welthari Omega in recorded history than study him, that raised a few questions. 

****

Was it possible there’d been others before him?

****

What was the Registration trying to hide?

****

~~~~

****

Steve shifted restlessly in his place near Clint. They’d been watching the Manor for a few hours, and nothing had happened. Nothing, until an indistinct blur that had to be the Maximoff boy came zipping around their hiding spot.

****

Clint fired, and for the first time since Steve had met him, he missed. 

****

Pietro flew by again, this time so close to Clint he was knocked sideways. The kid paused in front of them and smirked, staying just long enough to ask, “You did not see that coming?” in that thick accent of his. 

****

The arrow, which had found a mark in one of the trees, had vanished along with the enmeve, and only after they were both long gone did Steve stop to think about the arrows. The Registration employed two dozen or so gifted scientists charged with creating more powerful weapons, explosives, potions, everything, and Clint seemed to have a never-ending supply of interesting (usually deadly) arrows.

****

“Clint, which arrows are those?”

****

“New batch. Explosives, but they’re meant to stun instead of kill or maim or whatever. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on killing your mark,” Clint said, shifting carefully to load the crossbow (and  _ that  _ had been such a mess to get him to use, he hated them, but hiding in the bushes left little room for the movement and space an actual bow would require).

****

“I’m going to take a look around, talk to Bucky and Nat. Sitting here is useless,” Steve muttered, starting to wriggle back out of their hiding spot. The growth was just thick enough that unless anyone was carefully watching them, he wouldn’t be seen sneaking away. 

****

“It’s called surveillance,” Clint sing-songed quietly after Steve, but didn’t try to stop him.

****

Before meeting up with the other two members of his team, Steve slipped closer to the Manor, hoping to pick up the Sense of the alloykinetic again. Maybe he’d be able figure out the extra touch of the person, be able to Sense them in the Markets later, among a thousand other Welthari.

****

He could practically  _ hear  _ Clint telling him he was an idiot.

****

When he was maybe a dozen paces from the Manor, Steve reached out with his Sense, straining for the alloykinetic’s magick. There were traces of all the magicks in this place, streaked across the grass and leaking from the windows. It was nearly overwhelming, the power battering Steve from every angle, and after a moment he had to pull back. As a general rule he tried not to Sense more than five magicks at one time for precisely this reason, which had never mattered before, searching these types of houses. Few people wanted their servants to be Welthari—few people wanted their servants to have power.

****

For whatever reason, Stark thought differently. 

****

Steve tried again. This time he focused on one section of the house at a time, picking through the rooms as best he could. Even so, every few minutes he had to stop and collect himself. After the fifth pass through the house, Steve was about to give up and rendezvous with Natasha and Bucky, but then…. _ yes.  _ Cold heat whispered across Steve’s skin once again and he shivered. He had his mark. 

****

Possibly. It could have been Howard, but Steve’s gut—or maybe his Sense—said differently.

****

At any rate, the alloykinetic was moving, the magick strengthening and fading every so often. Steve followed carefully from the outside, and had to force himself not to yell in triumph when the mark lead him around the back of the Manor to the doors, and the old butler opened them up.

****

Could he signal Clint from here? Most likely not, but that was fine. Steve could handle this. He always had before. 

****

Except...the only person who stepped outside was the Omega, Howard’s son. Steve bit back a rough sigh and gathered his magick back into that secret place in his chest where it resided. 

****

He was so busy scolding himself ( _ idiot, you endangered the whole mission to follow an Omega around,  _ and then  _ don’t say Omega like that, his name is Tony)  _ that for a moment he didn’t even register that Howard’s son— _ Tony _ —was holding something. 

****

Dark metal glinted in his hand as he crouched a little ways off from the house, scraping at the ground and then laying down one of Clint’s arrows. Steve nearly attacked right then and there, before he reminded himself that Pietro had stolen the arrow anyway and it wasn’t that surprising that it had ended up in the Starks’ possession. 

****

But then...Tony was an  _ Omega,  _ and from the way Howard had talked Steve doubted he’d be allowed anywhere near an arrow like that. 

****

It didn’t matter. There was no way anyone but Clint and maybe the arrow’s creator could find the invisible panels to open it up and get a look at the dangerous intestines. 

****

_ So what was this Omega doing with it? _

****

He got his answer a second later when Tony crouched over his prize and splayed his fingers in the air. Steve only had time to process the fact that  _ that should not be possible _ before Tony’s fingers were flicking through the air and the arrow was coming apart, neat pieces of metal hovering for a moment and gently coasting to the grass. 

****

Gingerly, Steve reached out with his Sense and very nearly cried out at the force of the magick—it felt like just barely surviving in a fight, dodging blows and dragging up a shield half a second before being hit. And there was no one else around to be causing it. 

****

Tony Stark was an Omega.

****

Tony Stark was Welthari.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! I'm a bit worried about this one, because there's just so much talking, and I'm very afraid of making the characters OOC, so if you see anything glaringly bad, maybe drop a comment? I'm also worried about the logic of this in general, if everyone's motivations line up. I'm just gonna keep in mind that I wrote this whole thing in like, a month, and leave it here. Enjoy!

It was honestly a miracle Steve managed to get back to Clint at all, much less without being caught. He was still reeling from the revelation when he threw himself down into their hiding spot so forcefully Clint hissed, “Steve? Steve, you okay?”

“It’s Tony,” Steve managed through gritted teeth.

“What’s Tony? Sorry, wait, _who’s_ Tony? What happened out there?” Clint demanded, abandoning his post so he could face Steve.

“I tried Sensing him,” Steve whispered, “and I followed him to the back of the house, out onto the grounds, and it was just _him_ , no one else, and he had one of your arrows, Clint, he had one of your arrows and he _took it apart_ -”

Clint shook his head. “Sorry, can we go back to the part where you tell me who the hell this Tony guy is, because who knows, maybe he just didn’t have his band for some reason, we could check with the Registra-“

“He’s an Omega.”

“Holy _shit_ , really?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve growled, staring straight ahead at the Manor.

Clint was quiet for a moment after that. “We gotta tell the Registration. They’ll want to know.”

“But why don’t they? Something doesn’t add up. There’s no way Howard Stark doesn’t know about this,” Steve muttered. “Maybe...maybe we should hold off on the report for another day?”

Clint did a mostly decent impression of someone who was very convinced with Steve’s logic, then started extracting himself from their nest. Steve followed, and they began sneaking back off of the estate. It wasn’t too hard, save for the place closer to the gates where all the trees and flowers and bushes just stopped, leaving about fifty feet of open space to the fence. Clint ducked behind the last bit of cover and stared towards the house, pupils shrinking down to tiny pinpricks of black—a sure sign he was using his magick.

When the way was pronounced clear they both darted across the open space and vaulted over the high iron fence. Steve gave Clint a boost and jumped up himself, and wondered if Tony Stark had made this fence, if his magick had twisted all its little pieces just so.

Then he was landing on the other side, Clint was whistling their signal, and they were sneaking down the street as quickly as possible without drawing suspicion. On the corner, they’d all hitched their Registration horses in case they were needed, and the four nearly identical bay horses watched impassively. Captain, with the small, white, vaguely star-shaped mark high on his forehead, lowered his head in greeting to Steve.

“Hey boy,” Steve murmured, running a hand over Cap’s neck before he swung into the saddle.

Clint followed suit on his lighter-colored horse, Hawk (named for Clint’s own nickname) and after a moment Bucky and Natasha slipped around the corner on after the other, dressed like servants out on errands. With Bucky’s missing arm and Nat’s bright red hair, they stuck out a bit more than usual servants, but it wouldn’t matter now. Nat wasted no time in sliding onto the back of Widow, the small dark mare with just as much fire as her owner. Winter, Bucky’s horse, stood patiently as his rider climbed awkwardly on. They all liked to joke about how Buck and Winter looked the same, with identical blue eyes and surprisingly sharp stares.

Truth be told, Steve thought they all resembled their horses in one way or another, though whether that was a strange twist of fate or the product of years of working with them, he couldn’t say.

When they didn’t immediately wheel around and charge up the street, Nat frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I saw him,” Steve explained, “the mark—he’s an alloykinetic.”

“And?” Bucky asked pointedly.

“ _And_ it’s Tony Stark. Howard’s son. The Omega.”

There was silence at that. Even Natasha couldn’t fully conceal her surprise. The horses shifted restlessly under the tension, and as one the four of them jolted from their private thoughts.

“But that shouldn’t-”

“I don’t think-”

“Isn’t it just-”

“Shut up, all of you,” Natasha snapped. “This is still a mission, yes, but it’s also something brand new we’ve never encountered before. We should take Stark—we can figure out what we want to do from there. Bucky, do you think you can cancel his magick?”

Bucky growled lowly and flicked his wrist. Steve, familiar with Bucky’s moods, braced himself, but there was nothing that could properly prepare him for the sickening feeling of his magick vanishing. It felt like someone had torn out his insides and left him empty—he was grasping for something that simply didn’t exist anymore.

Nat, to her credit, didn’t react except to grip Widow’s reins too tightly and suck in a shocked gulp of air. Clint made a choking sound and nearly fell, and Steve couldn’t blame him. Canceled magick was like the ground suddenly dropping out from under you, and no one was immune to a bit of panic at the feeling.

As quickly as he’d taken it, Bucky released their powers again, magick slamming back with all the force of a hurricane. Steve nearly fell off Captain’s back just from that.

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered, “I think I can take care of him.”

Natasha took a visibly steadying breath and straightened up. “Okay. You and Steve can go back for him then, and Clint and I will be ready with the horses. Don’t cause trouble, though. We don’t need attention at the moment.”

Steve nodded and left Cap in his friends’ capable hands. Bucky did the same and they snuck back to the Manor, creeping around the outside of the fence this time to lower the chance of being spotted. As Steve had hoped, Tony was exactly where he’d left him, crouched over the arrow’s remains. He seemed to be poking at them with a small stick. Steve couldn’t worry about that—they had a job to do.

“Quick, Buck—he won’t be left alone for much longer,” Steve hissed.

Bucky flicked his wrist. Tony froze where he was, and for one endless second nothing happened at all.

Then Tony screamed.

~~~~

So, the stuff inside the arrow was indeed an explosive, as Tony found out (safely, he hid behind a tree after he lit the fuse, he didn’t have a death wish), but it barely scorched the grass around it. So either the Registration had terrible weapons or they hadn’t actually been trying to kill him. Both seemed equally likely.

Still, Tony did not want to lose any body parts, so he poked at the lightly-smoking remains with a stick to see what happened. Unfortunately—and anticlimactically—nothing blew up or melted the stick or did anything remotely interesting.

Tony was about ready to kick some dirt over the burnt grass, put the arrow back together, and go inside. He was vulnerable in the yard.

And then something _broke_ inside of him. Something vanished, dropped out from under his feet, dissipated. Tony froze, instinctively reaching for his magick to try and form some sort of weapon from the metal scattered around him.

It didn’t come. He was empty. He was powerless. The space where his magick lived was a gaping, bloody hole and it hurt, it _hurt_ and Tony stopped breathing.

He screamed.

He screamed and screamed and _screamed_ and then someone was grabbing his arms, trying to pull him up, and he was caught between latching onto them and shoving them away.

In the end, he settled for the latter, but all his desperate kicking and clawing did nothing to stop the two strong arms from dragging him to the fence and hauling him over it into the waiting arms (arm?) of someone else. The person only had one arm wrapped around Tony’s body, but they were surprisingly strong.

“Jarvis!” Tony screamed, “ _Jarvis, Ana,_ please…”

A pair of boots landed with a dull thud on the grass. “Tony. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Tony jerked and looked up. It was the guy from the Registration, who’d come the night before and who reeked of Alpha power and who had just kidnapped Tony from his own house and who had, apparently, also _remembered_ his _name_.

Huh.

“Yeah, says the guy who just kidnapped me,” Tony spat after he got over the shock.

“Right. Sorry. It’s kind of our job,” the man said with an apologetic twist of his mouth.

“This is the weirdest kidnapping I’ve ever been part of,” Tony muttered.

“Just wait. It’ll get weirder,” a rough voice said from behind him. By some silent signal that got the two men moving, pushing Tony along.

The weirdest part was that it was still daylight, that these two men were just walking down to the road with him like nothing was wrong at all. And then, just a little ways up the street, four bay horses waited patiently with two more people. Tony instantly recognized the red hair of the woman, and the third man of the group had a crossbow—his spies.

They were nearly to the horses when the man holding Tony grunted, “I can’t hold both of ‘em for much longer, Steve.”

Both of them? Tony twisted around, trying to see what else the man was holding, but he was stuck fast.

“I know, Buck, just a minute. We need to get out of here. He can ride with me.”

The man—Buck?—cursed under his breath and shifted his grip slightly. They’d reached the horses. Too quickly and seamlessly to even take advantage of the moment, Tony was being manhandled into Steve’s arms instead and pushed onto the back of one of the horses.

“We heard him screaming from _here_ , Steve,” the woman warned, eyeing the street behind them

“Then we better get moving,” Steve replied grimly, and just like that they were off, loping easily down one street after another, but rather than pulling up to the Registration building like Tony expected, they stopped in an unassuming row of houses somewhere not far from there.

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Tony blurted, but before he’d finished his sentence Archer-Guy (what, they still hadn’t been introduced) was pointing an arrow at his face.

“Easy there, Hawkeye,” Buck said, carefully pushing the crossbow down and away. “He’s allowed to be curious.”

“We’ll answer what questions we can once we get inside,” Steve added to Tony as he slid from his horse’s back. Before Tony could even think about running, though, he was being awkwardly pulled to the ground himself.

Tony was lead into the nearest house, whose inside was just as unassuming as the outside. The door shut too loudly behind him and he was released. Spinning around, Tony found himself face-to-face—okay, fine, chest-to-face—with Steve. Steve, who was blocking the door. Steve, who was also looking almost sheepishly down at Tony.

“I suppose some introductions are in order?” he asked. “Everyone, this is Tony Stark. Tony, this is Natasha, Clint, and, uh,” Steve hesitated, “James?”

“Bucky. Bucky’s fine.” Tony turned to get his first proper look at Bucky and _holy shit he was_ -

“Yes, I am missing an arm, yes it was an accident, yes it still _fucking_ hurts, and no, you _cannot fucking touch me,_ ” Bucky growled.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony blurted, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just...you could totally use a prosthetic, right? I’d have thought the Registration would give you one, but y’know, I could _build_ one-”

“What?”

Right. Babbling. He should. He should not, not do that. “I...I build things? Alloykinetic, I move metal, it makes sense, um. I could try….it’d probably be easier for you—unless you _don’t_ want me to, I shouldn’t have even offered, sorry, that was just. Stupid. I’m gonna, I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Bucky stared at him. “You just offered to build me an arm. After we _kidnapped_ you.”

Tony shrugged. “To be fair, you guys are the nicest kidnappers I’ve ever had, and no one ever exactly accused me of being sane.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Right. So, obviously, we’re meant to be turning you in to the Registration, but this is...unprecedented. You being an Omega and all.”

Clint added, “You _are_ Welthari, right? I mean, Steve here said so, but I’m not one to believe what I haven’t seen myself.”

Tony reached for his magick to prove the other man wrong, but found himself falling into the endless pit that had taken up residence in his chest. Before he knew what was happening he was bent over, the fabric of his shirt fisted in his hands.

Someone—he couldn’t remember whose voice it was—said, “Buck, you can give it back now.”

And just like that everything slammed roughly back into place and Tony staggered backwards, narrowly avoiding falling on his ass. Jesus Christ. It felt like someone had shoved a massive rock straight into his ribcage with no care at all for what got broken or nudged out of place.

Experimentally Tony reached for his magick. It was right where it always was, coming to the surface with a familiar prickling sensation. He wiggled his fingers and a few of Clint’s arrows floated into the air. Clint shouted and snatched them back in an instant, but everyone had seen.

“Yeah, I think I’m Welthari,” Tony smirked.

~~~~

Everything was in an uproar.

They’d solved the mystery of whether Tony really was Welthari for Clint, but now they were faced with a few tiny problems. For one, they couldn’t nullify Tony’s magick forever—Bucky simply didn’t have the stamina to hold it for more than an hour or so. For another, they were no closer to knowing what to do with the Omega. And they were fighting over those two problems while Tony sat in another room—one he couldn’t get out of without going past the four of them.

“Hey, by the way,” Tony yelled, interrupting their ~~fight~~ _conversation_. “If you guys are planning on holding me for ransom, that won’t work. Howard’ll never pay up.”

“Jesus,” Steve hissed, “how much experience with kidnapping does he have?”

Enough to not be afraid. Enough to know his father wouldn’t pay ransom. _Too much_. The more Steve thought about a younger Tony Stark waiting in vain to be rescued, about Howard somehow being able to stand not going through heaven and hell to get his son back, the more he wanted to hit something. Anything. Howard, maybe.

Steve had had a low opinion of Stark before, when he was just a rich man dismissing his son because of his breed. This was….cruel.

“We need to start doing something soon or all of this is going to turn into one massive waste of time,” Natasha warned. Clearly the others had started up again without Steve.

“What we _need_ is a way to keep him contained. He’s alloykinetic, he’s a threat,” Clint retorted.

“I can _hear_ you,” Tony sing-songed from the other room. “And I feel like you should know there’s usually not this much fighting between kidnappers either. Also, Steve promised me questions. And answers.”

Nat shot Steve a look and stalked into the other room. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“For starters, why haven’t I been turned in? Are you guys really Registration? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I don’t know, yes, and probably not,” Clint drawled.

“What do you _mean_ , you don’t know? You guys are the ones making the decisions here,” Tony said, and he almost sounded appalled at them.

“Watch it, Stark,” Natasha snarled, “don’t be so foolish as to think you have footing here.”

Tony met her gaze steadily. “If I wanted to, I could drag the iron from your blood, and you’d be dead before you hit the ground.”

Natasha sprang, but Bucky was faster, canceling Tony’s magick with a savage twist of his wrist. Tony collapsed in on himself with a choked-off cry, gasping.

“Bucky,” Steve warned, “let him go.”

“Steve, are you insane?” Bucky asked, “You heard him!”

“I’m sorry!” Tony interrupted them, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— _please_ give it back.”

Nat eyed Tony warily for a moment, then nodded sharply at Bucky. With another almost invisible motion, the Omega’s magick was released. Steve sighed. They weren’t going to get anywhere with Tony around, alternatively snarking and threatening them depending on his mood.

“Nat, Clint, come with me. We won’t get anywhere like this. Buck, I need you to stay here and-”

“Keep an eye on him, yeah, I got it. I’ll be fine, Steve.” Steve hesitated.

Finally Bucky shoved him towards the door with a muttered, “Get outta here, punk,” and Clint and Natasha ducked out of the house.

Everything was a mess. They had a Welthari Omega in Clint’s house, the Registration probably wondering where four of its best trackers had disappeared to, and absolutely no clue what to do.

What had Steve gotten them into?

~~~~

Left alone with Bucky, Tony stretched out across the chair he’d commandeered. “You know, usually you would, y’know, tie up the person you’ve kidnapped. Especially if they’re Welthari.”

“Don’t need any of that,” Bucky rumbled, “I may only have one arm, but I can more than take you.”

Tony sat up again. “Speaking of...I meant what I said. I would build you an arm.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, I’d trust that.”

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but….can I try?” Tony asked, “You’d be able to cancel my magick anyway if I did something you didn’t like. And, trust me, if I wanted out of here I could’ve gotten out by now, magick or not.”

Bucky looked dubiously amused at that.

“I could! Magick doesn’t manifest until around twelve or thirteen, in case you forgot—that’s a hell of a lot of time to be powerless. A lot of time to practice,” and too late Tony was realizing he probably should’ve stopped talking four hours ago.

“Practice?” Bucky leaned forward, “Sta—Tony, how old were you, when you had to learn that?”

Tony shifted, very aware of what his answer would mean. “I, uh...I don’t remember all that well, but I think, four? Something like that. Definitely when I was five and six, and then they started figuring things out, so a bunch more before I was ten, and after that I was, y’know, presenting, and….lots of things you can do, with an O.”

He pretended not to notice Bucky’s flinch at the casual slur.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Bucky whispered. “You...you know that’s not... _normal_ , right?”

Tony shrugged. “Sure.”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair once, twice, then stood up suddenly and started pacing around. Tony tolerated it for a moment before he tested his limits again.

“So, can I build you an arm?”

“Why are you so _obsessed_ with that? Why are you offering to do so much work for me?” Bucky snapped.

“I dunno, it’s...it’s fun, most of the time, and...it’ll help you, y’know? I just...I like building things, okay?” Tony snapped, defensive.

“Okay.”

Tony blinked. “What.”

“You can build me an arm, or try anyway,” Bucky said, “I mean, you said it yourself—you can’t do anything with me here, so I have nothin’ to worry about.”

Tony was still a little shocked he was allowed to do anything at all, but when Bucky vanished for a moment and returned with paper which he pushed at Tony. “Whatever you think you’ll need, write it down. Just know I’m not stupid, I’ll know if you try to sneak bombs in here.”

Tony did as he was told, sticking mostly to what he’d need for the outer shell of the arm for the time being. When he finished, Bucky disappeared again and Tony thought, for a moment, that he was really just going to be left alone in the house. But his captor (was that even the right word anymore?) returned after only a few seconds.

“Runner,” Bucky explained to Tony’s evidently confused look. “One of the perks of Registration is we always have some ready to go.”

Tony winced inwardly. Running wasn’t a _bad_ job, per se—it was reserved for enmeve like Pietro, who could run fast enough to deliver messages across the city in seconds. But Welthari didn’t have an infinite supply of magick, and Tony had heard more than one horror story of runners simply collapsing, even dying, in the middle of a delivery. Though Registration runners would probably have better treatment, better pay.

It was a better job than most lower-class citizens could manage to secure. Pietro had been a runner, trying to support his sister as she looked for work—there weren’t many jobs that needed a telepath, and few wanted an employee who could peer into their thoughts, twist them around. Jarvis had found them while out on errands, and took a few days to convince Howard they could be useful. Jarvis had nearly lost his job for that, but he’d done it.

Because running was a job, and it was the lesser of quite a few evils, but in the end it was still dangerous and demanding and awful.

Neither Tony nor Bucky spoke for several long minutes, until a knock at the door had both of them on their feet.

“Stay here,” Bucky started, but Tony was already pushing past him.

His magick vanished, shriveling up inside him, and Tony stumbled the last few steps to the door, flinging it open. A runner stared at him first, then at Bucky when the other man all but bowled Tony over in his rush for the door.

“That’ll be it for now,” Bucky said gruffly, starting to push Tony back.

“Are you okay?”

The runner started, glanced down and away. “P-pardon, sir?”

“Are you,” Tony repeated, slowly, “ _okay_?”

“I-I...yes, sir?”

“How many runs have you done today?”

He hesitated. “This is the fifth, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. Five is more than enough for one enmeve. Take a break.”

“Tony,” Bucky growled, “you don’t give orders around here.”

Tony looked at the runner for a long moment. He was sweating like he’d just run across the city (he had), and he looked half dead on his feet. His magick wouldn’t hold much longer.

“Fine,” Tony conceded at last, “but at least _walk_ back to Registration before you use up your magick and pass out.”

The runner nodded frantically and scrambled back down to the road, probably glad to escape. Tony nearly waited too long to yell “thank you!” after him, but it was worth it when the man actually stumbled and turned around, like he was surprised.

Jesus.

“Get back inside,” Bucky snarled (Tony was beginning to think he was more animal than human, he growled and snapped and hissed more than he spoke).

“Fine.”

Surprisingly, Bucky didn’t say anything else about Tony’s little stunt, didn’t take away the privileges he’d been given. He just carried in the package full of Tony’s materials and set it down with a heavy thud. Tony winced again. The runner had carried that _while_ sprinting too quickly to see through the city. He shook his head. Too late to think about that now.

Bucky dragged a chair over and leaned forward to watch as Tony started digging through his materials. Tony rolled his eyes and got to work.

~~~~

Moving to Steve’s house hadn’t accomplished very much. They’d talked in circles for an agonizingly long time before finally agreeing to wait it out and see what the world looked like in the morning. Then they’d make an official decision by noon. Almost as soon as a decision had been made Steve was left alone, with Nat going back to her assignment and Clint vanishing to God only knew where.

Steve puttered around the house uselessly for another hour or so, straightening up things that were already straightened and faking productivity until he thought he could go back to check on Tony and Bucky. Clint’s house was as quiet as ever and completely normal-looking from outside. Steve frowned a little and knocked on the door.

There were some unintelligible sounds from inside and then Bucky opened the door a crack. “Whaddaya—oh, Steve, hey, get in here.”

“How’s-” Steve started, but then Bucky was dragging him in and leading him to the room Tony had taken up residence in.

The Omega was surrounded by shining metal and other bits and pieces Steve couldn’t hope to identify, and despite his magick was mostly working with his hands. He only seemed to be using the kinesis for convenience, not necessity.

Huh.

Steve watched for a second and cleared his throat. “What, ah, what are you doing?”

Tony glanced up, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he bent over his work. “Bucky needs an arm.”

“I can watch him and cancel the magick if he tries anything, and he’s not wrong,” Bucky shrugged, “so I figured, why not?”

“Bucky, we can’t _trust_ him.”

“Duh, punk,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s why I’m not. Let ‘im be, he kinda grows on you.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. God. Tony was still building on the floor, nonchalantly fitting panels together in the vaguest shape of an arm. What kind of Omega—what kind of _person_ —would do that, for nothing? For someone who’d _kidnapped_ them? Bucky had been learning to get by without his arm, sure, but a prosthetic might, just maybe, help him. And Tony Stark was just...giving it to him.

“Hey, Tony, can I ask you somethin’?” Bucky asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“You just did, but sure, shoot,” Tony said, not looking up.

“Why’d you ask that runner if he was okay?”

Steve started to ask “What?” but Bucky was already motioning for him to _shut up and listen_ , so he paid attention. Tony had stopped working, but still hadn’t looked up at them.

“I...Pietro, he was a runner. He, uh, works for Howard now,” Tony said quietly, and Steve didn’t miss the use of his father’s first name. “It’s hard work, I mean, people have died doing it, you know? I just….he ran across the city for me, and, I dunno, I wanted to ask. I don’t think anyone ever has before. Or said ‘thank you.’ Maybe we should.”

Steve stared. This Omega, this rich privileged boy, had not only taken notice of some poor random runner, but he’d _worried_ about him. Enough to say something. And he was making Bucky an arm just _because_. He was beginning to think Tony Stark was not at all what Steve had been anticipating.

But that was a problem to deal with later. For now, they needed information.

“Tony, how long have you had your magick?” Steve asked.

“Same as everyone else,” Tony replied, “‘bout seven years. I was eleven.”

“Did anyone ever...talk to you about it?”

Tony snorted humorlessly, finally sitting back to look at Steve. “Yeah, sure, everyone was _so_ eager to tell me how much of a freak of nature I was. A Welthari Omega? It’s against every law of nature there is. Omegas are built to be _weak_. Omegas are made to submit. They aren’t made to be powerful.”

Steve flinched at the bitter venom in Tony’s voice. “That’s not true.”

“It’s _ugly_ ,” Tony growled, low and dangerous, “that’s exactly how you know it’s the truth.”

Steve looked away from Tony’s too-sharp gaze and found himself looking at Bucky. But Bucky was staring at Steve too, a mix of anger and something else written into the hard set of his jaw and the shine of his eyes.

Tony went back to working beside them. Steve made some noise about moving to his and Bucky’s house, letting Clint and Nat have their place back. Bucky responded with something along the lines of agreement and canceled Tony’s magick as a precaution. In the other house, Tony and Bucky settled down again and Steve left to file his report with the Registration.

That was the hard part. Officially, Steve had required some more eyes for a stakeout on Stark Manor but had ruled that out as a possibility for the assignment, which would hopefully be enough to buy them a day or two.

After that he took Captain out again, to loop by the wealthy district of Calethyia. Not close enough to be spotted, just to look and see what was happening in the wake of Tony’s disappearance.

The streets were empty and quiet. Stormclouds roiled dark and dangerous overhead, but somehow Steve didn’t think that was the cause for the lack of search party. The only moving thing in sight was a single hunched servant making their way down the street.

Steve called out as he passed. “Are you alright? Storm’s rolling in, do you need a ride somewhere?”

The servant stopped and turned toward Steve, hesitating for a moment. “No, sir,” he said at last, in a voice that was oddly familiar, “this is too important.”

Steve wheeled Captain around so he was walking beside the man. “Surely whatever it is can wait.”

“No, sir, I’m afraid not. I’m the only one.” Steve pulled up short at that as the rain began to fall, watching the strange man plod slowly away. He’d be lucky not to catch ill in this weather, but there wasn’t much Steve could do about it now.

He stayed there for another moment and turned toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited to hear predictions for the next chapter based on this last scene. Or thoughts on what just happened in general. I think I made it fairly obvious, but what do y'all think? Comments and kudos make me smile and also write faster ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update bc I forgot I'm leaving early tomorrow for a lil vacation type thing and don't wanna forget to post!! when I get back I'll hopefully have finished revamping the ending of this into something a lil better, and then we're done!!  
> I dunno what to say about this chapter except what I originally wrote at the top of it soooo  
> HERE COMES THE ANGST TRAIN CHOO CHOO MOTHERTRUCKERSSS
> 
> and enjoy ;)

Tony stayed with the Registration people for nearly two full days. He built the shell of Bucky’s arm and started working on the inside mechanisms—what was the point of a prosthetic you couldn’t use?—and basically had more freedom than he’d ever been given under Howard’s roof.  ****  
** **

Which he wasn’t going to think about.  ****  
** **

But at the end of the second day, Bucky started getting restless. Steve had been leaving for most of the day to keep up the guise of still looking for Tony. The pair had had a conversation in low tones that morning, and though Tony couldn’t be sure, he thought Steve was supposed to be back before dusk, or something like that, and the sky was darkening ominously. ****  
** **

Bucky growled something under his breath and stalked to the front windows for the fourth time in as many minutes. Tony almost told him to calm down, but. That was probably not the way to go.  ****  
** **

It was well and truly dark by the time Steve let himself in, stumbling over the threshold and closing the door heavily. Bucky was out of the room in a heartbeat. ****  
** **

“Steve, you fuckin—Steve?” Bucky said, his voice turning from anger to fear in the space of a breath. Tony craned his neck to try and see without intruding. ****  
** **

“I’m fine, Buck, it’s fine, just...give me a second,” Steve muttered, leaning heavily against the door.  ****  
** **

“That doesn’t look  _ fine  _ to me Steve, what happened?” Bucky demanded. ****  
** **

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and the words began to spill out of him, quick and slurred and tripping across his tongue. “There was, yesterday, there was a man on the road, and the storm was coming, and I offered to help, but I didn’t try hard enough, I guess, and now-” ****  
** **

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off sharply, clumsily capturing both of Steve’s hands in his one. “Slow down. It’s okay. Not everything is on you, okay?” ****  
** **

“Okay,” Steve breathed. “But, but I didn’t know who he was, or maybe I would’ve done something but now it’s too late, I found him, an hour ago maybe?” and he was babbling fast enough to rival Tony, and making about as much sense; “and I thought he was asleep but he  _ wasn’t,  _ Bucky, he  _ wasn’t,  _ and it’s my fault, I could’ve done more-” ****  
** **

“Stop that,” Bucky snapped, but gently. “Who is this we’re talkin’ about?” ****  
** **

Steve winced noticeably. “I—he was Stark’s butler, I think, that’s all I know, I can’t remember his name-” ****  
** **

There was more, but Tony’s world was dropping out from under his feet, worse than cancelled magick, worse than hungry eyes and dismissive words, worse than any pain he’d ever endured, spiraling downdowndown to crush him with its weight and leave him hollowed out and empty, all at once.  ****  
** **

Jarvis.  ****  
** **

_ Jarvis was- _ ****  
** **

No. ****  
** **

_ Nonononono this isn’t happening this isn’t happening this  _ can’t _ be happening _ and distantly Tony heard himself screaming, felt his throat ripping itself apart, saw his knees hit the floor and the air smelled of blood and his lips tasted like salt and he didn’t know if he was screaming or suffocating anymore. ****  
** **

He wasn’t sure it mattered. ****  
** **

Even through the thick haze of grief, Tony was smart. He could see, in his mind’s eye, how it had happened. How Howard, as always, had threatened his job if Jarvis went to find Tony, how Jarvis must have finally walked out. How he had pushed his old bones through the storming night until his body gave out.  ****  
** **

How he’d died looking for Tony. ****  
** **

Someone touched his arm or shoulder or face and Tony screamed something vicious and scared and lashed out, flooded with the need to do  _ something, anything, move. _ ****  
** **

He ran. 

~~~~ ****  
** **

Steve stared at the wide-open front door, at the dim shape of Bucky standing outside in the dark, and wondered yet again what had happened.  ****  
** **

He’d been torn up with guilt and a touch of grief when he came home, after seeing the butler’s body, and one second he’d been trying to explain it to Bucky and the next Tony was screaming like he was being flayed alive.  ****  
** **

Steve had heard those sounds exactly twice before: once when Sarah died, and once when Bucky lost his arm.  ****  
** **

They were the kinds of screams that came when the pain was too much to go anywhere but  _ out _ , and your body didn’t much care how it got there. They were dying sounds from a living body.  ****  
** **

They were sounds that left you aching just from hearing them. ****  
** **

The man’s name had been Jarvis—Steve knew that now. Not because he remembered, but because underneath the one long, awful scream Tony had said the name, again and again and again, searing it into Steve’s brain.  ****  
** **

_ Jarvis _ .  ****  
** **

Bucky slumped back into the house. “He’s fast, I’ll give ‘im that. It’s too dark to go after him now. We can figure out what to do in the morning.” ****  
** **

Steve nodded listlessly. Bucky sighed. ****  
** **

“Look, Steve, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.” ****  
** **

“I should’ve, though.” ****  
** **

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe. I couldn’t say, I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened. But I do know you, Steve, and I know you would  _ never  _ just walk past someone who really needed help. So this isn’t on you.” ****  
** **

Steve just looked away and scrubbed a hand over his face. “We have to find him.”  ****  
** **

“I know,” Bucky said gently, “But it’s no use now-” ****  
** **

“He’s  _ hurting, _ ” Steve snapped, “and he’s  _ alone _ , and God only knows where he’ll go right now.” ****  
** **

“Steve-” Bucky tried again, but Steve had a mission, now, a purpose, a place to direct his feet, and it was impossible to stop him when he got going. ****  
** **

Bucky barely even tried and then Steve was in the street, drenched in darkness and turning in circles, like Tony would’ve stayed anywhere near. Without a word Bucky followed him out of the house and pointed up the street, and Steve ran. ****  
** **

It was barely moments later when Steve had to stop and orient himself, try to figure out where a panicked, grief-stricken Omega would run in the night.  ****  
** **

_ Where where where  _ ****  
** **

Someone shouted in the distance, unintelligible but easy enough to decipher meaning (get away get away bad wrong  _ leave _ ) and someone screamed, high and desperate (no no no no and please and please and  _ pain _ ).  ****  
** **

_ Tony.  _

~~~~ ****  
** **

Tony didn’t know where he was running, only that he was, that he had to, that he couldn’t stop and then by some miracle he made it to a group of people gathered in the street, bent low and hushed. Divine guide or instinct or pure luck, Tony didn’t know, but he pressed forward, grateful, just the same.  ****  
** **

He’d barely started to press through the crowd when a man in front of him spun, struck out—not hard, really, but enough to send Tony stumbling.  ****  
** **

“Get back, O, this is Alpha business. You don’t want to see this.”  ****  
** **

“He’s...he’s my…” Tony stuttered over the words, trying to find a way to explain. “Butler” was too small, “father” wasn’t right, not here. “He’s...he’s  _ mine. _ ” ****  
** **

The Alpha barked out a laugh. “A bit on the young side, eh? But I guess we all have our preferences.” ****  
** **

God, no. “That’s not what I  _ meant,  _ you fucking-” ****  
** **

“Woah, watch your  _ mouth,  _ O, didn’t your mother raise you to have manners?” The rest of the crowd tittered, amused.  ****  
** **

“Let me through,” Tony growled, pushing into the crowd more forcefully this time and managing to get through to see.  ****  
** **

Jarvis was lying on the ground. Someone had draped an old blanket or cloak or something over him, but Tony knew, and it was  _ wrong.  _ Jarvis had never been anything but tall and stately and proud, and now he was just lying on the ground. He hadn’t even gone back to the Manor. He’d looked for Tony until he couldn’t any more.  ****  
** **

God, Tony could’ve stopped it. But instead he’d stayed with  _ Steve  _ because it was better than Howard and he didn’t quite want to leave. He could have left, escaped, he knew he could’ve, come home and stopped Jarvis from leaving or tried to find him.  ****  
** **

It was his fault.  ****  
** **

Too late Tony realized he was sobbing again, awful ugly sounds wrenching themselves thickly from his throat. The Alphas around him grabbed at his arms and hauled him back. ****  
** **

The first he’d spoken to shouted at him. “Get outta here, you fucking Omega! This isn’t your place!” ****  
** **

Tony was shoved backwards and bodies closed in around Jarvis, staring down at him cold and wet and  _ wrong  _ and doing nothing, and Tony screamed.  ****  
** **

He was still screaming, or maybe just gasping, voice ruined and air still streaming from his lungs in a fruitless effort to just  _ suffocate  _ and deflate as limp and cold as Jarvis, when someone else pulled him free of shoving hands and cruel voices. ****  
** **

“Tony, Tony, calm down, it’s all right now, it’s gonna be fine, come with me.”  ****  
** **

“ _ Jarvis, _ ” Tony gasped out, straining forward again. ****  
** **

Strong arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him gently around so he was staring right at a strangely familiar chest.  ****  
** **

“Steve,” Tony murmured numbly. Warring emotions of relief and fear clashed in his head, but he was too tired to run anymore. He felt too tired to be alive. ****  
** **

Jarvis wasn’t alive, anymore. Tony felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest, at that, and choked it back down. Steve pulled him in closer and he went, gladly. Someone made noise, rough and cruel and  _ sharpcut  _ and  _ Omega-pain _ , and Steve growled,  _ Alpha-protect  _ and  _ stayaway _ and  _ mineminemine _ and Tony clung to him.  ****  
** **

“Tony,” Steve was saying, above him, “Tony.” ****  
** **

“What,” Tony mumbled, or thought he did. He was so tired. Jarvis was dead. Steve was holding him, somehow, and he wasn’t afraid, and nothing made sense.  ****  
** **

He closed his eyes, or maybe the darkness around him finally matched the shadows in his mind.  ****  
** **

~~~~ ****  
** **

God, Tony was a mess.  ****  
** **

Steve had found him, being pushed and pulled in different directions by a group of rough Alphas, making awful wet hissing sounds that tumbled limply off his tongue and onto the street. ****  
** **

He’d pulled Tony back from the crowd, murmuring empty reassurances, and for a moment Tony went without resistance. Then, suddenly, he’d pulled against Steve’s hold, lurching towards the Alphas, his voice rough and raw when he said “ _ Jarvis. _ ” ****  
** **

Steve tucked Tony against him, blocking his view and holding him still, and the smaller man had murmured something into his chest.  ****  
** **

“He yours?” someone asked from behind Steve.  ****  
** **

“Yeah, I mean, not judging, but I wouldn’t ‘ave thought you’d be willing to share, pretty little Meg like that,” another voice sneered. “Maybe you oughta give him a lesson on runnin’ off and disrespecting his betters.” ****  
** **

They laughed at that and Steve nearly tore them apart. As it was, he shifted enough to face the leering, taunting faces. “Count yourselves  _ damn  _ lucky he needs me right now, or I swear to God I’d tear you apart. His  _ betters _ ? All you lot ever accomplished was being born privileged, born Alphas. He’s got none of that and he’s worth ten of any of you, so you had better  _ fucking watch yourselves.” _ ****  
** **

There might have been something in Steve’s voice, because Tony curled his fingers a little harder into Steve’s shirt.  ****  
** **

Steve held Tony that much tighter and addressed the Alphas one more time. “As it is, consider yourselves lucky I don’t arrest you all for harassment of an Omega and grave robbing.”  ****  
** **

They sputtered, protested, and Steve probably couldn’t properly charge them with anything—harassment wasn’t a crime anyone cared about and it probably wasn’t grave robbing with no grave and nothing obviously missing—but the threat was enough to quiet them. ****  
** **

“Tony,” Steve murmured to the Omega currently slumped against him. “Tony, you alright? Say something, Tony.”  ****  
** **

Tony’s lips moved against his chest and whatever weight he’d been supporting collapsed into Steve’s arms. Passed out or fallen asleep, then. Probably for the best.  ****  
** **

Scooping him up in a bridal carry Steve prayed Tony would remain asleep for, Steve began to trudge back to the house. Bucky met them barely a minute later, trotting down the street in the dark on Winter, Captain plodding dutifully behind.  ****  
** **

“He alright?” Bucky called when Steve was close enough.  ****  
** **

“He’s not dead, if that’s what you mean,” Steve responded. Bucky’s mouth twisted in a grimace of a smile. ****  
** **

It took some awkward maneuvering, but Buck helped Steve clamber onto Captain’s back and settle Tony between them, and they set off at a steady, rolling walk towards the house.  ****  
** **

“So, Steve, what are we doin’ now?” Bucky asked after a few long moments.  ****  
** **

“I-” ****  
** **

“No, wait, lemme guess. You did that thing where you got all attached to the stray and now you’re gonna try to find increasingly nonsensical ways to justify it until someone calls you on it.” ****  
** **

Steve felt his face heat and thanked the stars it was dark out. He got enough teasing for his blush as it was (hey, it wasn’t  _ his  _ fault his ancestors had passed on too-pale skin and the curse of turning red at the slightest things).  ****  
** **

Somehow Tony didn’t wake, even though he couldn’t be comfortable and was rocking back and forth with every one of Captain’s steps. Not even when they reached the house and carried him inside to what had once been a guest room but was slowly being overtaken by everything but guests.  ****  
** **

Steve found himself in the other room, after. Where Tony had been sort-of living for two days. Where the shell of a metal arm lay on the ground, its innards trailing over the floor.  ****  
** **

There was blood. Tony’s.  ****  
** **

He’d fallen, cut himself on the metal, maybe. His knees  _ had _ been torn up.  ****  
** **

Steve picked at the sharp bits of silver on the floor, halfheartedly piling them to the side. Some of them were edged in red. By the end, so were Steve’s fingers, nicked and smeared so he couldn’t tell what was Tony’s blood and what was his. ****  
** **

Jesus Christ. ****  
** **

Bucky found him a moment later. Steve heard him sigh, and then the metal shards were being pried gently from his fingers and Bucky was hauling him up. ****  
** **

“Go to  _ bed, _ Stevie,” Bucky said softly, pushing Steve gently down the hall. “We’ll figure it out.” ****  
** **

Steve didn’t  _ want _ to figure it out. The minute they figured it out Tony would be gone and something deep inside of him growled fiercely at the thought. Tony wasn’t anything like Steve had expected, and he wanted—well. Steve wanted to keep him.  ****  
** **

Bucky’s soft laugh dragged him back. “Yeah, what’d I tell ya, fallin’ for the strays. Maybe you oughta tell Tony that yourself, huh?” ****  
** **

Had he been talking out loud? He only did that when he was really out of it.  ****  
** **

“Yeah, Stevie, I know. Go to bed before you keel over, this was...a lot, for one night.” ****  
** **

It was. Steve felt hollowed out inside, dulled and tired and reeling. He made it upstairs, finally, crawled into bed, and slept. ****  
** **

~~~~ ****  
** **

Tony woke up slowly, to dim light and the smell of a strange room in his nose. Other people’s beds never smelled the same.  ****  
** **

Wait. Someone else’s bed? ****  
** **

Tony ran through the events of the last night. Bucky’s arm, Steve being late. Steve coming back. And...and Jarvis. And pain and running and screaming and somewhere in there, tangled in with the memories, was something warm and strong and safe. ****  
** **

_ Alpha.  _ ****  
** **

Yeah, okay. Grief and panic and whatever had messed with his head. Even decent Alphas like Bucky and Steve weren’t safe or warm or  _ anything. _ ****  
** **

Also, Tony still had no memory of getting into a house, much less a bed. He chanced sitting up, slowly. The room was full of old odds and ends, pieces of armor and weapons in various states of disrepair, clothing and some books and things.  ****  
** **

Tony swallowed and his throat lit itself on fire, all ragged and burning and dry. He coughed, which only served to make it worse, and finally flailed around and found someone had left water on a table next to the bed. He drank it all in a few greedy swallows and leaned back. ****  
** **

No one was coming to investigate after his coughing fit. Interesting.  ****  
** **

Experimentally Tony swung his legs off the bed and stood. His knees hurt, and—ow, yeah, someone had clumsily wrapped them in loose bandages that were now spotted with red.  ****  
** **

They held his weight, though, and it was far from the worst injury he’d ever had, so Tony made his way over to the door and cracked it open.  ****  
** **

“Stop.” ****  
** **

Tony froze. That was a voice bordering on Alpha, just this side of a command. Whoever was talking meant business. Another minute and Tony would be able to place the voice, he was sure of it... ****  
** **

“Against my better judgement, I’m not canceling your magick right now, and if you want it to stay that way I need you to do a few things.” ****  
** **

Cancelled magick. Nullthari. Bucky. Of course.  ****  
** **

“What’s that?” Tony asked, or tried to—it came out a rough, barely-human rasp and his tortured throat burned in protest.  ****  
** **

“Well, first, maybe don’t talk just yet. Second, open the door and come out here, and if I so much as see your pinkie finger twitch I’m canceling your magick,” Bucky warned. ****  
** **

Tony did as he was told, and found Bucky leaning too-nonchalantly against the wall opposite his door.  ****  
** **

“Third, you’re gonna get some more water and let me take a look at your legs. After that we can...talk, I guess.” ****  
** **

Following Bucky into what amounted to a kitchen, Tony tried once more to reorder the events of the night before. He thought...Steve, maybe? Steve might have been there, at some point. So where was he? ****  
** **

After Tony had gulped enough water to drown an army, Bucky started unwrapping his knees. Tony sucked in a sharp breath as the bandages stuck to the cuts with dried blood, pulling away painfully to fresh bursts of red. His skin was a mottled mess of shallow cuts, and they stung like hell. ****  
** **

Bucky poured something over the wounds and Tony hissed as the pain doubled. “Jesus.”  ****  
** **

“Sorry,” Bucky grimaced. He was quiet for a moment, and then: “Steve likes you, y’know.” ****  
** **

Tony choked. “H-he what?” The water had helped, but his voice was still rough and raspy. ****  
** **

There was a pause while Bucky made an odd face Tony couldn’t decipher and kept working on his cuts. “Mm. Said as much, last night. He would never say it if he had a decent verbal filter going, but when he’s wiped out like that, well, he tends to say everything he’s thinkin’.” ****  
** **

Tony bit his lip. “What’d he say?” ****  
** **

“Find out yourself. Upstairs, second door on the left.” ****  
** **

It took Tony a second to realize he was being told to go find Steve. Bucky wrapped his legs once more and stood up. “Steve’s my best friend. Be careful.” ****  
** **

Tony knew Bucky meant that in a million different ways, threat and warning and affection all in one. He nodded. ****  
** **

The stairs were more of a challenge than Tony had anticipated, but he made his way up without too much difficulty. The second door on the left was closed tightly, and was it Tony’s imagination or was it screaming  _ go away go away leave _ at him? ****  
** **

He knocked anyway, quietly. “Steve?” ****  
** **

Silence. ****  
** **

“Steve?” again, louder. ****  
** **

Silence. ****  
** **

“Steve, it’s me, it’s Tony. I’m gonna...I’m gonna come in? Just...okay.” ****  
** **

The door creaked a little when it swung open. The room was small and bare, save for a large bed and a trunk at the foot of it. And Steve.  ****  
** **

The Alpha was lying on the bed in his Registration uniform, rumpled and very much asleep. Tony swallowed and almost darted out of the room right then, before he noticed the smell of something coppery in the air, the too-dark spots on the bed sheets and Steve’s hands. ****  
** **

Something ancient roared to life in Tony,  _ pain pain pain  _ and  _ help help fix it  _ and  _ Alpha _ and before he knew what was happening he was on the bed, gently lifting Steve’s hands. His fingers and palms were nicked and his hands were smeared in blood. Tony bit back a whine, not entirely successfully.  ****  
** **

“Mmph...Tony?”  ****  
** **

Steve shifted a little on the bed and blinked blearily up at Tony, who was— _ shit _ , still holding his hands.  ****  
** **

Tony let go immediately and winced, scrambling backwards. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t, I just, Bucky said. Bucky said I could but, but this is  _ bad  _ and I’m sorry-” ****  
** **

“Wait-” ****  
** **

“I’m just, I’m stupid, I’m sorry, I should, I should  _ go,  _ and, I-I can get Bucky? Yeah, that’s good, I’ll go, sorry-” ****  
** **

“ _ Tony. _ ” ****  
** **

He stopped.  ****  
** **

“Yeah.” ****  
** **

Steve pushed himself up on one arm to look at Tony. “Just...wait a second, okay, I just woke up and I’m not entirely sure what’s happening but I  _ do  _ know that you’re here but you’re freaking out and trying to leave and I  _ don’t want that. _ ” ****  
** **

Tony could only stare at him. “What?” ****  
** **

Steve smiled, a small, fragile thing, and ducked his head as if to hide it. “I want you to stay.” ****  
** **

“Oh,” apparently Tony had switched from uncontrollable babbling to monosyllabic responses. Brilliant. ****  
** **

“You said, uh, Bucky told you to come up here?” Steve asked after a moment. ****  
** **

“Uh,” Tony shifted uneasily. Was he allowed to say? “I, uh...yeah? Kind of.” ****  
** **

“Course he did,” Steve laughed, that low husk of a self-deprecating sound Tony knew too well. “He always tries to set me up.” ****  
** **

While Tony was still sorting out the implications of those words, Steve turned bright red and pulled back, curling into the bed like he could sink into it. A small, rough sound escaped his throat and he buried his face in his hands. ****  
** **

“Wait, what?” Tony almost reached for Steve, almost tugged him back up, but that was  _ so _ many kinds of wrong that he stopped. He was Omega. Alphas didn’t need Omega comforts.  ****  
** **

Steve looked up anyway, just a little. “Tony—how much do you remember, of last night?” ****  
** **

Tony took inventory of his memories again. They were clearer than they’d been, but still blurry-edged and broken up in places. “Most of it. Little fuzzy.” ****  
** **

“You collapsed,” Steve murmured, and Tony couldn’t help but flinch. “I-I carried you back.” ****  
** **

He stopped talking, then, but there was more hidden in the lift of his voice. He’d cut it off. ****  
** **

“And?” Tony prompted, cautiously. ****  
** **

Steve sighed. “I shouldn’t, you don’t deserve it, just forget it.” ****  
** **

“Oh  _ hell  _ no!” said a new voice, and Tony whipped around. Bucky was standing in the doorway, looking equal parts exasperated and angry.  ****  
** **

“Sorry?” Steve asked. ****  
** **

Bucky stalked across the room in three quick strides and jabbed his finger into Steve’s chest. “You don’t get to pull your ‘unworthy’ shit, not this time, I  _ heard  _ you last night and if you haven’t seen the way Tony looks at you you’re  _ blind  _ and there’s no hope for you at all.” ****  
** **

“What are you talking about?” Steve yelped at the same time Tony asked, “What’d he say?”  ****  
** **

“Ask  _ him _ ,” Bucky snapped, seemingly directed at both of them. Without another word he spun on his heel and left the room, muttering things under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “idiots, they’re so goddam  _ stupid _ .” ****  
** **

Both Steve and Tony were quiet for a moment. Finally Tony couldn’t take the silence anymore. ****  
** **

“What’d you say?” ****  
** **

Steve blushed again, and  _ wow,  _ could he turn red with that pale skin, it was almost sweet to see a veritable  _ giant  _ with red dusting his neck and cheeks like that. “I, uh, don’t have much of a filter when I’m, uh, tired, so I might’ve said something about wanting to, um...keep you? Not like  _ that _ , I mean, I wouldn’t  _ force _ you-” ****  
** **

“You said that?” ****  
** **

“I—uh, yes?” Steve was staring at his hands again, his goddamn  _ bloody hands, _ and Tony forgot the conversation in favor of swallowing down a whine. ****  
** **

“Steve,” he whispered, “Steve, your  _ hands. _ ” ****  
** **

“Oh, right, sorry,” Steve started to clamber out of the bed, “I didn’t think, shoulda’ known not to go bringin’ that around an Omega-” ****  
** **

Tony stepped in front of Steve to stop him from going any farther. There was some old thing about Omegas being more sensitive to blood or pain or whatever because they were childbearers, but Tony was fairly certain it was all Alpha propaganda to keep their pretty Os at home where they  _ belonged.  _ ****  
** **

Then again, Tony couldn’t stop himself from making pathetic noises any time he glanced at Steve, so maybe there was a ring of truth to it. Not that it mattered, really. “Steve, this has nothing to do with my biology and everything to do with the fact that you’re  _ hurt,  _ God,” and that time he couldn’t quite stop the whimper from escaping. ****  
** **

“It’s hardly anything, I’m fine-” ****  
** **

“Shut up in there, both of you! Yes, Tony, Steve said he wanted to keep you or whatever. Steve, get over yourself for five goddamn seconds and let Tony look at your hands. Jesus Christ.” ****  
** **

There was silence for about half a second before they both broke down laughing, because  _ Bucky.  _ It took about five minutes for them to calm down, because every time one of them looked up they’d get set off again, and  _ God _ , Steve had a beautiful laugh, and when he smiled for real it was blinding, like he was trying to compete with the sun—Tony certainly couldn’t look at either for more than a second before ducking away.  ****  
** **

“So you, you like me or whatever, huh,” Tony said when they finally finished, and  _ shit,  _ it came out a lot less flippant and a lot more raw than he’d intended.  ****  
** **

“Yeah, Tony, I think I do.”  ****  
** **

Tony swallowed, once, and thought about the night before.  _ Warm _ and  _ safe _ and  _ Alpha  _ together in a way they never had been before, weren’t  _ supposed  _ to be if past experience was anything to go by. ****  
** **

“I feel safe with you,” Tony whispered, like a revelation, a prayer.  ****  
** **

A promise.

~~~~ ****  
** **

_ I feel safe with you.  _ ****  
** **

Steve could hear the weight of history in those words, the weight of a thousand untold stories written in a language he didn’t quite know how to read yet. It felt like a secret, like an admission, and Steve cradled it to his chest. ****  
** **

“Thank you,” he whispered back, like anything louder would shatter the fragility of this moment between them.  ****  
** **

Tony looked a little bewildered at being thanked. “You don’t, you don’t have to say  _ thank you,  _ it’s not…” ****  
** **

He did, though, because telling Steve that had been its own exercise in trust and even if Tony didn’t realize it, Steve did.  ****  
** **

“I trust you, too,” Steve murmured, because at the end of the day that was what  _ I feel safe with you  _ meant.  ****  
** **

“I guess, uh, Bucky knows best, right?” ****  
** **

“You’re damn right I do!” ****  
** **

“Quit eavesdropping!”  ****  
** **

“Hey, Tony could be an axe murderer for all we know! I’m being careful!” ****  
** **

Steve threw a pillow at the closed door, which did absolutely nothing. Tony laughed, but it died off at the spots of red that dotted the pillow.  ****  
** **

“Let me,” he murmured. Steve almost asked, but Tony was fairly obviously staring at his hands.  ****  
** **

“Sure.” ****  
** **

The door creaked open a bit and Bucky cleared his throat too loudly before setting something down. Tony sprang up and went to see—it was the first aid kit.  ****  
** **

There wasn’t much to do besides wash off the blood, but Tony insisted on wrapping his hands anyway. They were quiet, mostly, Tony focusing on his task and Steve focusing on Tony.  ****  
** **

Once Tony was satisfied, they ventured out of the room to find Bucky Absolutely Just Coming Up The Stairs Now Not Eavesdropping At All. Steve gave him a look, and Bucky had the grace to look sheepish.  ****  
** **

“You know, I’m glad you all got your heads out of your asses and whatnot, but we do still, y’know, have a small problem,” Bucky pointed out. ****  
** **

Steve frowned. “What’s that?” ****  
** **

“Technically, we kidnapped him,” Bucky pointed towards Tony. ****  
** **

“‘Him’ is standing right here, thanks very much. And does it count as kidnapping if I gave my consent?” ****  
** **

“We dragged you off kicking and screaming.” ****  
** **

“I give my consent  _ now,  _ though!” ****  
** **

Steve sighed. “You have to go back. They’re your family, I’m sure they’re worried.” ****  
** **

Tony snorted, but it was the hollow sort of sound that meant the only other option was to cry. “I don’t have family, anymore. My father died last night.” ****  
** **

The thick weight of his words slammed into Steve’s chest like a boulder and stuck there. “I’m sorry.” ****  
** **

“You met Howard. He hates me. I’ll even...I’ll even register, if it means I can just stay here.” ****  
** **

Steve shook his head. “You know they wouldn’t accept that.” ****  
** **

“Then say we’re Bonded. A, a mated pair, or something. I’m old enough, they’d have to let me live here,” Tony insisted.  ****  
** **

“Can we do that?” Steve asked, this time directing it to Bucky, who only shrugged. ****  
** **

“Who knows? Probably. It’s messed up, but Bonding trumps most everything, especially with consent on both sides.”  ****  
** **

Steve bit back the wave of anger at those words and tried to focus on the larger picture. “I don’t want to Bond if it’s forced. That’s...that’s not right.” ****  
** **

“Call it courting, six months, trial-run type of thing, and if it doesn’t work, we can go our separate ways afterwards,” and wow, Tony had a plan for everything. Steve couldn’t tell if he’d been thinking about it before or if he was just smart enough to come up with it on the fly like that.  ****  
** **

“It’s still  _ forced _ -” ****  
** **

“What if it’s not, though?” Tony pressed, “What if, maybe, I wanted to?” ****  
** **

“Oh my  _ God, _ ” Bucky groaned.  ****  
** **

Steve fought down a smile. “Then, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simultaneously really like and kinda don't like this chapter?? I know it's angsty as heck and cute and fun besides, but pacing is just never a thing that I can do. I hope it's alright?   
> (also, something wonky is going on with the end notes I think? I dunno if it shows on y'all's side but they're weird for me and I've tried and failed to fix it, so sorry about that)  
> Comments and kudos make me squeal and dance around like a maniac and that's fun!!! I wanna keep doin it!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got hit directly in the mouth with a big ol' dose of life and got their 4-day hiatus turned into two weeks of radio silence? This one!! So sorry about that, and also sorry because this chapter is wrap-up and shorter than the rest, but this is the first chance I had to be back at a computer and I wanted to get it out to y'all. 
> 
> Have some Bonding, Howard going away forever (yay!), our favorite spy and archer back in the thick of things (hi Nat!! hi Clint!!!) and the happy ending our poor boys deserve. This is...maybe two notches above the original ending for this fic, but it's better and longer and the best I can do without making you all wait another month. So, here!

They tried. First was the Registration, because Tony flat-out refused to go back to Stark Manor without the papers that would allow him to freely leave. No telling what Howard would do if his Omega son showed up with a Registration officer and announced they were being Bonded, or courting, or whatever. (Oh, and by the way, Dad, this is one of the guys that kidnapped me! Isn’t that just the darndest thing?)

There was also no telling how the Registration would react to Tony’s being an Omega. Howard, Maria, and even Jarvis had spent the last seven years telling him to keep his magick hidden. Howard and Maria because it was unnatural and wrong for an Omega to have powers, Jarvis because anyone who wasn’t threatened or disgusted by him would likely want to experiment on him. Both were terrifying prospects, so Tony kept his mouth shut. 

And now he was supposed to, what, just come out with it? No way in hell he was doing that, and he told Steve and Bucky as much when they moved their little meeting down to the kitchen. 

“Okay,” Steve said. “I...I don’t get it, exactly, but I understand. We just have to figure out how to get around that and-”

“I’ll get Nat,” Bucky said. At Tony’s confused look, he explained, “She works more in the espionage aspect of Registration. She knows all about masking and even faking someone’s breed.”

Tony had only seen Natasha the once, that first day, and she’d been mentioned in passing. All he really knew was that she was small, smart, impossible to read, and probably deadly. He didn’t want to know more than that. 

Except he was clearly about to, because Bucky vanished briefly and returned in a moment with not only Natasha, but Clint as well. 

“So I hear we’re getting Bonded, congrats guys,” Clint said in lieu of greeting. 

“Uh, thanks?” Tony managed, more question than anything else. 

Steve grimaced. “This is not exactly what I had in mind when I pictured myself Bonding.”

Ouch. Okay, so Steve didn’t picture himself getting tied down to some snarky, unnatural, fugitive rich-boy Omega he barely knew. Go figure. 

“Stop that,” Natasha snapped, apropos of nothing. She was glaring at Tony, though. 

“Me? Me, stop what?” 

“Thinking. You have a look, I can tell. It’s not good thinking. Steve meant that he didn’t picture a Bonding that required this much sneaking around to accomplish with virtually no courting period. So whatever else you’re thinking, stop.”

“I…”Tony blinked. “Okay?”

Steve was looking at him. “You did know that’s what I meant, right?”

“Yup, sure absolutely,” Tony bobbed his head quickly. “Yeah, so, we were talking about Natasha helping me with Registration?”

No one called him on the obvious subject change or the lie, thank God. Natasha walked over to him and did something complicated with her hands. A breeze picked up around Tony, the faintest stirring of air. 

“Zephyrkinetic?” he asked. Natasha didn’t exactly seem the type to play with air, but he didn’t know what she  _ did  _ seem the type for either, so. 

Natasha hummed affirmation. “Surprised?” 

“No, not that, I just...nothing, nevermind. Uh, what are you doing?”

“Scenting,” Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think we were close enough yet to warrant me doing it the old-fashioned way. Congratulations, you smell like an Omega. It’s fainter than some, though, which is good. Easier to hide.”

Tony tried to imagine Natasha leaning into him and breathing his scent off his skin. No thanks. “So, now what?”

“Now you go take a bath, a good one. Scrub the scent off of you, so to speak. I have perfume that’s meant to simulate Beta pheromones, for older Betas or anyone who wants their scent a bit stronger. Should work, but the Registration isn’t easily fooled. We’ll have to be quick about it.”

Tony nodded once, quickly. Steve directed him upstairs to the bathroom, where Tony filled the tub and scrubbed his skin red and raw. He didn’t want to take any chances with the scents.

When he finally came back downstairs, Natasha smudged powder and makeup over his scent glands to mask the scent further before she began dabbing Beta scents over his neck and a few other places. 

No one spoke. There was nothing to distract Tony from the discomfort of Natasha clinically disguising his scent, nothing to stop him from focusing on the thickening cloud of neutral Beta scents surrounding him. It was strange and a bit nerve-wracking and more than a little disgusting. Tony thought he would probably have a headache before they were finished. 

“Done,” Natasha announced at last, stepping away. She swirled her hands in the air again, casting Tony’s scents around the room.

Steve winced, a nearly invisible movement, and Tony had no idea what that was supposed to mean. 

But in the end, “We should go,” was all Steve said.

“Don’t come back until you’re good and Bonded!” Clint yelled after them. Steve burst out a laugh and Tony chuckled a bit, too. Steve had good friends. 

Well. He still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Natasha, but he tentatively placed her in the "good" category for the time being. 

Tony shook the thoughts from his hear as he followed Steve outside, and tried to prepare himself for the most dangerous lie he would tell in his life. 

~~~~

The Registration actually turned out to be fairly easy. Steve rode them both up to . the doors on Captain's back and they walked right in. Tony got a slap on the wrist for not registering, and the Beta scents held strong. Steve was given the papers declaring them a temporary Bonded pair for the next six months, which would allow them to live together, among other things. 

Tony was shaking by the time they finished, and no sooner did they get outside did Steve begin to smell nervous Omega scents in the air. And no matter how much that made his stomach curl, Steve couldn't help but like it better than the fake, impersonal Beta scent that permeated the air. 

Still, a frightened Omega was something Steve couldn't ignore, and he stood for a long moment with Tony's trembling hands in his, until they were steady again. 

"We've done the hard part," he murmured. 

Tony shot him a complicated look Steve couldn't decipher. "If only, if only, Steve. You haven't seen anything yet."

Right. Howard.

Howard Stark came next, and he was  _ not  _ happy, but they had their papers and he couldn’t do anything about them. Steve was a pretty high-ranking Registration tracker, as well, so Howard couldn’t even complain about lost connections all that much. 

He did fight them, though. "My son," and "Omega" and "unnatural" and "wrong" were a few of the kinder things Howard spewed at them. Steve lost track of the words after a minute, everything blurring together so it was all the same. 

But one thing stood out, the last words Howard would say to them for a very long time:

"He is my son, and I won't have him prancing around like he belongs in this world, bonded to some  _ tracker.  _ Come back here, boy, before you make a bigger mess of things that don't concern you."

With the last words, Howard  _ grabbed  _ Tony's arm, pulling him forward like he could just  _ take him back, _ and Steve was about two seconds from feral ( _ mine  _ and _ mine  _ and _ Tony  _ and _ protect _ ) when Tony ripped himself away. 

“You lost your rights to me when you let my father  _ die, _ ” Tony snarled, all savage anger and bitter grief, and they were galloping back down the street before Howard could even process what he’d said.

Steve was beginning to realize that Tony Stark needed no savior, certainly not from him. He could save himself. What he needed was someone there to lessen the blows a bit. 

So Steve held Tony steady in front of him, hands around his waste to hold Captain’s reins, and pushed the horse so fast that the wind dried Tony’s tears before they ever touched his cheeks. 

A week later they got word from a runner that Tony was, for all intents and purposes, disowned. They had a party to celebrate.

And, well. Time passed in Steve’s little house in the city, and Tony made proper friends with Nat and Clint and Bucky, and somewhere along the way a courtship turned into a temporary Bond turned into a permanent one. 

And  _ then _ Tony got the added bonus of being able to tell everyone they met when his Alpha kidnapped him and watching Steve blush  _ every damn time _ as he frantically tried to explain that it  _ wasn’t like that, Tony, stop. _

So  _ maybe _ it wasn’t a traditional love story like old Bonded pairs lived to reminisce about, but it was theirs. And it was perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that I am physically incapable of not writing endings as "two paragraphs encompassing the next forty years of story and a three-word-long ending line?"   
> Anyway. Thoughts? This was absolutely a blast to write, and seeing all the support for it has been amazing! I'm almost sad it's over, but I do have another project in the works I need to get moving on. 
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me writing!

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, here's this. the next two chapters are written, but I like suspense and also editing, so you'll have to wait a few days. Don't forget that comments and kudos make me less likely to hurl myself into the unforgiving void of space!!


End file.
